


Artistic Reflection

by BD99



Series: Emotion and Expressions [1]
Category: Queen of Thieves (Voltage Visual Novel)
Genre: Developing Friendships, F/F, Past, Past Tense, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 11:57:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21319810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BD99/pseuds/BD99
Summary: Both Silvana and her art can inspire Vivienne to reflect on their past.
Relationships: MC/Vivienne Tang, Vivienne Tang/MC, Vivienne Tang/Silvana Mendo
Series: Emotion and Expressions [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1546255
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Artistic Reflection

**Author's Note:**

> Song Inspiration - Control by Halsey.  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QNRHD5LkpCw

There was something captivating about watching Silvana work. Unburdened by the demands of the Poppy, her entire demeanour melted into something... different.

The quiet intensity dissolved; a bath bomb in a luxurious tub. Bubbles and colour that floated up to greet rose petals. The bubbliness echoed in relaxed shoulders; sun kissed freckles against Cuban skin. The movements flowed through lithe biceps, rippling through the bristles of the artist’s brush with each stroke. Purpose lingered yet the path danced through rose petals. Gentle, carefree, yet filled with conviction. Each stroke was dedication; the bride walking across the petals thrown by the flower girl. There was a wedding of colours, a union beautiful enough to draw tears, yet a veil concealing the Groom. A destination that was undefined. No expectations.

Dark eyes appeared glazed, torn between worlds. They spared only a glance for the real world. Instead, they appeared to gaze into the future. The reality the artist continued to forge with gentle strokes. Gentle. Soft. Beautiful. Was that the world Silvana sought, even after the reality of Crime? Was it that peaceful place that drew such smiles from her? Was it the touch of a fantasy prince that guides the corners of her mouth upwards? That parted her full lips? Or, was it something darker? Was it the viper in the shadows? The effect of poisons leaving the artist completely dazed?

Vivienne knew she was poison. She had learned early in life that the world would devour a naive girl. It was a lesson her own father drove home. The nail holding her tragic artwork aloft in the gallery of life. She had learned to play the parts of life that would get her close to her targets. Again, and again. Adopt an illusion. Become the illusion. Shatter the illusion and the hearts bound to it. Vivienne had learned early that the promise of poison was not enough to defend, thus she had taken the next logical step. Metaphor became reality. Whilst one might say a woman’s lips were toxic, Vivienne wove poison into her lipstick. Her serpentine ring bore fangs; fangs which Vivienne also poisoned. Illusion and deception had become the gorgeous red shawl she wrapped around her fine shoulders. Her tight-fitting black dress formed her scales, a seductive pattern to draw her prey closer.

Silvana was no exception. Silvana was a little field mouse, a girl with big dreams and romantic ideas. It had been easy to let Nikolai know how desperately Silvana wanted adventure, to guide him to the Cuban girl’s works in that park. The little mouse for Vivienne’s games was perfect. The clay which could be moulded into something far greater than a Viper could ever be. Something who would not poison those she loved. Someone who was worthy of the Gilded Poppy. The loyalty of Vivienne’s chosen family. Truly, Silvana could become the bandage after Vivienne shattered her current illusion.

Silvana had dreams. Daydreams, perhaps, but dreams which betrayed desires. Silvana had wanted the beautiful, worldly woman to whisk her away into a life of adventure. Handsome men, priceless jewels and heists. This was an easy role for Vivienne to adopt. Her art was flesh. It was her voice. When to touch, when to resist. How to form every word to draw one’s gaze to her venomous lipstick. Her gallery was opened to Silvana with the cold touch of pearls. Oh, how easily Silvana had been able to spot the fakery of gems, to feel what was brittle in hand. Forgeries which had fooled some of the pickiest buyers did not truly deceive the artist. Even with the distraction of purred seduction, Silvana’s instincts were sharp. The clay was there to be sculptured. Imperfections could be carved away or smoothed down to protect the heart. Silvana was, in essence, perfection. Vivienne’s first masterpiece that would remain when she was long gone.

The sculpture had all but formed within the Viper’s coils. An encouraging smile, a friendly hug. Distraction for the hand raiding from her pockets. A wallet. A phone. Anything loose. All returned with the deadly smirk. Luscious lips curled in poisonous invitation. Let her close, then push her away. Keep her stumbling. Heat her to molten, then form. Vivienne needed to hammer away at the girl’s heart. After all, the strongest steel was beaten again and again until the perfection of the blade was sharpened to cut. If Vivienne were to slice her heart out, she wanted the dagger to be dazzling. Yet, her sculpture, the little mouse she was twisting seemed immune to her poison. Even as the mouse leapt into trap after trap, Vivienne neglected to strike time and time again. Dry bite after dry bite. Pain without purpose; or rather, pain that sculptured a line Vivienne had not intended.

Silvana may have been clay, yet she stuck beneath Vivienne’s scales. Dark eyes still offered refuge from the harsh world, gleaming with the mirage of paradise. Her smile still held genuine joy, the comfort of a hug or hot coca on a winter’s night. What many began to wonder was how such a smile might taste. Would it be as sweet as chocolate? Would it possess her mentor’s poison? Could the crispness of her white teeth against caramel skin ever grow into the fangs of a Viper?

No. Not even the Viper could will herself to completely destroy the mouse. Silvana was something otherworldly. Someone who danced between worlds in a way Vivienne had never seen before. The creator of worlds of colour was not bound to the world of men; not entirely. Somehow, she existed where others could not. The rules did not apply to her, not in any way Vivienne could structure before Silvana was inside the walls. As Silvana’s strokes painted the newest history for the Poppy, she too began to paint Vivienne. That had to be it. What else could have shown Vivienne everything she despised of herself? Could turn those tricks and calculation into stumbling outrage every time a mark threatened the mouse? What else could explain the near obsession to protect?

Silvana worked with the physical. She created pieces that lingered in one’s heart. Something that could be touched. Brushstrokes against the canvas which could be followed. A forest to become lost in. Vivienne was the elements. The wind whispering. Seducing. Playing the mind until the body followed every suggestion. Together, they created heists that left the world reeling. They created chemistry so intoxicating that even the knowing scientist added too much heat. For the beauty of the moment, even the scientist would allow himself to be consumed within the flames. It was only amidst the ashes one could see the only flame was the one the scientist lit. That the Viper and Mouse had created something so tangible that science could not define reality.

Slowly, Silvana’s gentle innocence became needle sharp. A seductive line or touch was not enough to distract. Their game was theft, yet the artist began to explore further. For once, the mouse Vivienne hunted was a match for her. Or perhaps mouse knew it was no match and did not attempt to win. Suggestion was communication. Vivienne used the only suggestion she knew; the offer of love. Of romance. Of fantasy. Silvana countered with reality. Friendship. Family. Love. Four letters combined to disarm the Viper entirely. As she violently fought those four letters, the other fifteen slid beneath her scales. It wasn’t enough for Silvana to merely know she was family. She wanted the keys. To know everything about her family. Including Vivienne. Stroke after stroke began to define the blurred shadows of Vivienne’s identity, from her heartache to her cowardice. As the layers of colour were built, Vivienne’s schemes were laid bare. No longer was she family, the mentor. She was the one to be replaced. She hadn’t looked to Silvana as a new piece, rather the piece to replace her. Never had Vivienne ever truly considered what that would mean to the artist. Not until confronted. Gifted with colour Silvana may be, but her words held no such gentle weaving. The Cuban girl pushed, pushed and pushed. Just as she could gently create a reality, she could take a hammer to destroy an illusion. Doe eyed she may be, but Silvana was destruction incarnate to an indifferent heart.

Implosion. Their perfect harmony shattered. Vivienne, a creature of habit, fled. Yet, even fleeing, she longed for one more taste of chocolate... enough to abandon her rules once more. To parlay.

“Lately, every time I try to tell you something important it feels like you beat me to the emotional punch.”

Vivienne’s first confession. How could she have spoken when every word was met with another test? Another push? Another accusation? None undeserved, naturally, but why did the mouse seem so shocked when poison finally rushed through her veins?

“You’re enough to give me an aneurysm!” Silvana’s assessment of Vivienne’s games. Delivered so lightly. Something that should have broken a heart somehow embraced it, earning the gentle chuckle and response.

“It’s what I do best.”

It was true. Vivienne had forged herself in layers. A katana. Steel folded so many times it became sharp and fine. A work of art to destroy as much as entice. If she kept people on the edge of her blade, then she would never again be the one cut. She was silk between one’s fingers. Soft and smooth, yet so very slippery. So many had tried to hold her, so many had failed. Silvana did not hold with fingers. She drove her claws in deep. For that silk to be freed, it had to be torn by Silvana’s claws. For Vivienne to flee her family, she had to accept pain beyond measure. She had to destroy herself, not an illusion. Silvana knew this and acted without even a trace of remorse. That was precisely the passion which had been drawn to the surface. The ferocity Vivienne had craved to enhance. Within those claws, Vivienne finally found herself the mouse. The master finally outplayed by the student.

“I’m running. But I don’t want to. Every self-preservation instinct tells me I HAVE to. But I don’t want to, no more than I wish to slice out my own heart. Please tell me I don’t have to.” The confession had been torn from Vivienne within Silvana’s claws. Layers unfolded so the heart laid bare, if only for a second. Art was something that spoke to the heart. It inspired emotion. It tore layers aside to capture a perfect moment of vulnerability. An artist understood this better than any. She treasured it, embracing that moment and turning it into something full of power. Silvana was nothing if not an artist. Vulnerability became the next masterpiece, staining the high society of Italy as the Poppy left with more than merely priceless artefacts.

Silvana was one of them. Another petal. She was inexplicably different from the others, yet still connected at the roots. Her claws kept Vivienne from slipping away, kept her grounded. The Poppy not only remained whole; it grew.

**Author's Note:**

> This was born from me asking one of the most awesome people in my life for a list of various expressions. From there, I went off moods and pictures I got within 1 minute of reflection on each topic. 
> 
> Here, I wanted to play with cannon and I wanted to give the relationship a bit more of an open feel, instead of a certain romance or not. It can be a platonic, or a romantic, entirely dependent on your views and tastes. I feel, regardless, the drive of Vivienne as a character is very similar. Just very understated. 
> 
> The inspiring prompts for this was Reflection and Away with the fairies.


End file.
